


Rufus's Cabin

by impalawinchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 19:55:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13015029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalawinchester/pseuds/impalawinchester
Summary: Dean and the reader are snuggling in Rufus's cabin between hunts - and Dean couldn't be happier.





	Rufus's Cabin

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic!! Comment below and let me know what you think :)

Dean felt... happy, he guessed. Hadn’t felt that way in a long, long, time, and he found it difficult to identify the emotion when it did manage to slip past his lines of defense and settle itself in his chest. But this? Lounging in Rufus’ cabin, Sam showering in the other room, pasta boiling on the stove, and you sitting on the couch with him? Damn near perfection. His head was in your lap, his arm tucked under your thigh, and your fingers carded through his hair over and again. You, like that same fleeting happiness, had slid past his armor and curled yourself around his heart, although he wouldn't admit it.

You smelled nice to Dean – so different from the usual cycle of cheap soap and motel must and sweat and dirt and smoke. You smelled like good quality laundry detergent and vanilla (you told him once that it was lotion, which you sometimes slipped into his bag when he went running off on a hunt without you.) Dean only sometimes wondered if he scared you as much as you scared him. After all, he had murdered people, he had blood on his hands, and he saw the way Sam sometimes looked at him after slicing off a vamp's head or the like. But you were a whole different kind of scary. You were relentlessly patient and open with him - Dean Winchester couldn't hide from you. 

But at the moment, your fingers were running through the hair at the nape of his neck and skimming over his neck and tapping against his shoulder as you watched Caddyshack – you’d never seen it – and it seemed like you understood. You knew who Dean was, even if Dean hadn’t told you every awful thing he’d done. And he doubted Sam had mentioned it. Somehow, you knew, by osmosis, intuition, whatever. Somehow, you were still tugging on his ear to make him smile. 

Somehow, when Dean rolled over onto his back and looked up at you watching the movie, you broke your gaze to smile down at him. Somehow, when Dean reached up to touch your cheek, you leaned down and kissed him. Somehow, with your hair brushing against his face and the smell of you surrounding him and the shower turning off and the pasta boiling over – happiness tucked itself into Dean’s chest and refused to leave.


End file.
